


Tenebrescence

by thesunkid



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunkid/pseuds/thesunkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something changes the night it comes home. (Inspired by the Swedish film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1139797/">Let the Right One In</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tenebrescence

**Author's Note:**

> [Original post](http://thesunkid.tumblr.com/post/47919925574/tenebrescence-brucedick)
> 
> *tenebrescene: the ability of a mineral to change color when exposed to sunlight, often darkening. In this context its taken to mean "to become dark"
> 
> For your reading pleasure, this [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=woMOlC2q10I) is quite mesmerizing.

**_June 1989_ **

The day goes down in flames.

It’s exuberant.  The couple on the high wire falls to their death in a brilliant blaze.  For a moment the whole crowd convinces themselves that it’s just an act; a shower of flames, then rises the phoenix!  Out with the night and in with the sun.  Summer’s warm fingers pry their way in, gold and bright and gleaming.

But it doesn’t stop.  The fire crawls from the corpses and up the stage.  Their boy hides in the shadow of tent as people stumble and shove their way out.

Batman arrives in the night.  The moon is high and full, swollen on excess sun.  In the ashes lies the boy, streaked in blood.

At his approach he’s regarded somewhat curiously.  There’s dried flaky blood lining the underside of little nails and smudged, chubby fingers.  They trace the edges of his cape and up the cowl.  The points of his bat ears bend under the pressure, as he bends in acquiescence 

The pressure recedes and then boy is grinning at him.  There’s an old gleam in his eye and Bruce can’t help but slip out and take his hand.

 

**_April 1999 — 2:17am_ **

The alley is dark, dank with piss and blood.  The wicked congregate here.  Someone moans in the night and a quick scramble sounds across the old brick.  She quiets instantly.

Jackets are shed and buttons fly off.  There’s a slow constant pant echoing across the way.  Grunts rise and fall and fabric slides to the floor.

 

The alley is dark, dank with sex and blood.  The innocent are lost here.  Someone screams in the night and sobs sound through the air.  She quiets instantly.

Jackets are rounded and clothes fastened.  There’s a soft drag of a body echoing across the way.  Steel slides across skin and blood spills to the floor.

 

**_April 1999 — 4:35am_ **

The boy is curled tightly in his lap, blood still wet around his mouth.  His empty jug lies across the cave floor, its contents licked clean.

Bruce is reclining in his chair, cowl pushed back and fingers threaded in soft inky hair.  They snag slightly in a knot and large night eyes flutter open.

The blue is back, as dark and churning as ever.  He imagines a time when they were clear with the sun and full of childlike wonder.  But that must have been several lifetimes ago.  He imagines for a moment what was stolen from this child: his life, his body; trapped forever in something as small and insignificant as a doll.

A purr rumbles forth, rippling down his body.  He sits up in Bruce’s lap and taps out a message over his heart.

 _tap_ , _tap_ —pause— _tap_ , _scrape_ , _tap_ _tap;_ _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ —pause— _scrape_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_.

**_March 2029_ **

The night is dwindling, but the boy is still there, huddled under the covers with just his ears peeking out.  Next to him Bruce’s gnarled fingers grip tightly at boy’s lithe form.

“Damian,” he says, “you’ll look out for him?”

Damian nods and moves to block the first rays of morning as they clamor at the window.

The boy burrows down deeper, chasing the darkness, until his head is pushed to Bruce’s failing heart.  His hand snakes under the thin shirt, fingers tapping hurriedly against mottled skin.

Bruce huffs out a laugh, but chokes half way through.  The boy’s head pops up so fast that Damian barely has time to cover him.  His faces twists and eyes widen to moons.  They quiver slightly as he traces down the dying form beneath him.  Little fingers dig into sagging flesh and tears slip and fall like rain.

The bedside lamp throws a dim shine on the boy’s skin, catching at the burn winding his throat and holding his voice.  Bruce thumbs at it.

“I am sorry,” he murmurs before starting up a familiar rhythm.

 _tap_ , _tap_. “I…” _tap_ , _scrape_ , _tap_ _tap;_ _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_  “lo—”

 

 **_December_ ** **_2029_**

The box stays shut now, even in the dark.

_tap, tap_

The floor around it is littered with empty jugs, each containing a little more blood than the last.

 _tap_ , _scrape_ , _tap_ _tap;_ _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_

Damian moves him to the master bedroom.  The windows long since removed and the bed left just as before.  The newer jugs come back just a little bit cleaner.

 _scrape_ , _tap_  srape, scrape _;_ _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ _  
_

Maids come and go as each grows more curious than the last.  They all complain about the same thing—the incessant tapping.

_tap, tap_

They’re fired the next day.

 _tap, scrape_ , _tap_ _tap;_ _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_

**_January 2030_ **

Damian is at his desk, going through accounts when he stops.  The birds behind him twitter gaily in the sun.  The pen in his hands teeters for moment before he sets it slowly on the desk and makes for the master bedroom.

He knocks twice and waits.

When there is no reply he moves in, gently shutting the door behind him.

It’s sitting on its box, swaddled in fraying sheets.  It turns to look at him with gaunt, heavy eyes.  The line of its back is curved—hunched forward and gnarled like a tree.  It blinks slow and sickly, fingers shaking in their grip on the sheet.  Unopened jugs line the wall.

 It crawls with a dying pace back into the box, dragging the sheet with it.  Their eyes meet once more and Damian nods.

 

**_February 2030_ **

The night goes up in flames. 

It’s magical.  The box at his feet flares up in a brilliant blaze.  For a moment the onlookers are mesmerized; ice turns to stars and the grounds are alive.  Out with the moon and in with the day.  Dawn’s warm fingers glide across the snow, gold and bright and saddening.

But it doesn’t stop.  The fire dies down and away.  A boy watches from the shadow of the door as the man turns to leave.

He returns at dusk.  The sun is low, drowning in waves of blue and violet.  In the ashes there lies nothing but the shape of wings, flared out and low.  There’s ash lining the underside of little nails and smudged chubby fingers.  They tap out a rhythm: _tap_ , _tap_ —pause— _tap_ , _scrape_ , _tap_ _tap;_ _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ ; _tap_ —pause— _scrape_ , _tap_ , _scrape_ , _scrape_ ; _scrape_ , _scrape_ , _scrape, scrape_ ; _tap_ , _tap_ , _scrape_.

The door behind him creaks open and the man steps forward.  His arms are crossed against his chest and stares at the boy imploringly.

“Come, Terry,” he says, “leave them be.”


End file.
